


A fan-made continuation of Open Heart: Second Year

by anwenwrites



Category: Open Heart (Visual Novels)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anwenwrites/pseuds/anwenwrites
Summary: This is a fan-made continuation of Open Heart: Second Year. IT IS NOT THE REAL STORY. Since OH2 is on an indefinite hiatus as of 6/5/20, I decided to create an ending just for fun. I'm sure I'm not the only one going crazy while waiting to find out what happens next. This continuation starts after chapter 9 of OH2.Dr. Tessa Williams has just learned that her unrequited love, Rafael Aveiro, is leaving the town he grew up in and loves after breaking up with his girlfriend. Can she convince him to stay, and maybe even rekindle their relationship as well? Meanwhile, Tessa's intern, Esme, is saddled with a mysterious case. Who will be the one to diagnose the patient? Tensions between Edenbrook and Mass Kenmore are higher than ever, and Tessa has garnered considerable attention after stealing Mass Kenmore's high-profile patient. But can she salvage her friendship with Aurora, even though their hospitals are now working against each other? Summary will change as the plot develops.
Relationships: Rafael Aveiro/Main Character (Open Heart)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes: 
> 
> MC’s name in this fanfic is Tessa Williams, and she is romancing Rafael. I know a lot of people romanced him before he got delisted as an LI, so I wanted to give Raf romancers a chance to be with him in this story! 
> 
> Some of the chapters will deal with heavier issues. I will be sure to always include a content warning at the beginning of said chapters. Please read at your own risk, and click away if you need to. That is your judgment call. I will not be offended if you skip chapters because they trigger you.  
> 
> 
> Lastly, please don’t take this too seriously. It’s just my way of killing time while simultaneously trying not to go through OH withdrawal during this second hiatus. That said, I love writing and get extremely invested in the characters. I’m always open to discussion about the story and characters, but please don’t say an idea is bad just because you don’t like it. There are over seven billion different definitions of “good” and “bad” in writing. If you hate my ideas, I encourage you to send your own rather than send hate. And if you like my ideas, well, I still encourage you to send yours!
> 
> That's all for now. If you like what you see, please leave a comment!

Trigger warning: Mentions of weight and body size. If you are struggling with body image and/or disordered eating, read at your own risk. 

“Leaving? But why?” I gape at Rafael, utterly confused and shocked. He just dropped this bombshell on me out of the blue, and with Kyra hanging onto her life by a thread, too. This is just one catastrophe after another. He can’t be leaving!

Rafael doesn’t elaborate. He only blinks hard in response, refusing to meet my eyes. But that doesn’t stop me from noticing that his own eyes are damp with tears.

Something’s wrong. Yes, something is definitely wrong. Superman does not cry.  _ Rafael _ does not cry. This is Rafael Aveiro, the big, strong, heroic paramedic I fell head-over-heels in love with during my intern year at Edenbrook. Rafael, who is always there to offer a sympathetic ear or a distraction, whichever I need most in the moment. Rafael, who prioritizes the people he loves above all else, even the hospital that is his whole life.

I clasp my hands together in a Herculean effort to keep myself from reaching out to him, but it still takes every ounce of willpower in my body not to fling myself onto him. 

_ No, Tessa, _ I chastise myself.  _ He’s with Sora now. _

Rafael stands in front of me, keeping more space between the two of us than ever. His dark eyes are those of a broken man who is no longer sure where he belongs. Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to comfort him, to rest my head against his bulky chest, just like old times. But somehow, I resist the inexorable pull of my temptations and stand firmly where I am, six feet away from him. I convince myself that I shouldn’t even try to break down the walls he’s built between us, lest he reject me yet again.

He finally looks up at me, his damp eyes burning with an array of mixed emotions I can’t quite put my finger on. When he speaks, his usually deep voice is no more than a strained, hoarse whisper. “Sora and I broke up.”

_ Finally! _ I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since Rafael first introduced me to Sora. I always found her too materialistic, and...oh, who am I kidding, I just didn’t like her because she was with Raf.  _ My  _ Raf. 

Only he’s not mine, and he can’t possibly know that I’m thinking all this. So I fabricate the best sympathetic expression I can manage and sigh, “Oh, Raf. I’m so sorry.”

It’s not entirely a lie. I  _ am _ sorry that something bad happened to him. It pains me beyond belief to see him hurting, even if the reason for his pain is something I’ve deeply and silently resented for months. I’ll never forget the first time Rafael and Sora kissed in front of me. It was like a white-hot, rusty knife being twisted deep into my stomach.

Yet when Rafael extends his open arms to me, asking for an embrace, I don’t throw myself into them like I did when we were so happy together. I don’t nestle into him until I find the spot where I am most comfortable in his arms. Instead, I feel myself stiffen and back away.

_ What, so you can lure me in and then shut me out all over again, with no explanation? So you can re-awaken my love for you without the intention of ever loving me back? _

Rafael must read something on my face, for his own face crumples and he drops his arms. “I’m sorry, I should have known—”

I cut him off. “I deserve answers, Raf. Why are you leaving?” I deserve answers to a hell of a lot more questions than that, but right now in the middle of a bustling hospital isn’t the time.

“My girlfriend’s gone. I’ve been suspended from the job I’ve dedicated my whole life to. I see no reason why—”

“Cut the crap, Raf!” I snap. I notice nearby patients giving me strange looks, but I couldn’t possibly care less at this moment. “You love this town. Your whole community is here. Your friends, your family, the seniors you love volunteering for! You’re telling me you’re just gonna pack up and leave all of that behind?”

Rafael bristles. I almost apologize at seeing Rafael, of all people, on the verge of tears because of something I said, but I know deep down that  _ I’m  _ the one who deserves an apology. He stares at me for a long moment, clearly considering his words. When he finally does answer me, his eyes are sad and his expression resigned.

“I think I should go,” he says.

“Raf…” I protest, but he turns his back on me and stalks down the hall without another word. I watch him as he becomes smaller and smaller, reduced to a tiny dot before turning the corner and disappearing altogether. Perhaps even for the last time. 

“Dammit, Raf!” I exclaim, stamping my foot. 

“Got some drama going on?” Jackie sidles up to me, an interested smile on her face. 

I bury my face in my hands. “Not now, Jackie,” I groan. The last thing I need is to relive the unfortunate events of my beleaguered, unrequited love life for her entertainment. 

“Oh, come oooon, spill already,” Jackie needles me. 

God, she is insufferable sometimes. I shake my head. “You know, Jackie, when you finally get your head out of your textbooks and have your own boy or girl troubles someday, you’ll understand that other people’s drama is not for your—”

I am interrupted by Jackie’s pager beeping. “Ooh, gotta go!” She gives me a quick wave before breezing away. 

When Jackie is gone, I glance back through the window at Kyra, who is deep in thought in her hospital bed. I remember how slim her chances of survival actually are, and my eyes once again brim with tears, which spill over despite my best attempts to keep them in. I can’t lose  _ two _ friends.

“Dr. Williams?” Esme’s voice jerks me out of my dismal thoughts.

“Oh!” I quickly wipe my tears, hoping she doesn’t notice.

Unfortunately—or fortunately for her patients, I guess— Esme is very observant. “Were you crying?” she asks.

I straighten my spine and turn to face my intern. “Like I told you earlier, Dr. Ortega, I have a lot on my mind. Now, what do you need?”

“It’s my patient in room 317. I’ve been trying and trying and haven’t been able to diagnose her at all,” she replies.

“Have you exhausted all your options?” I ask. I have three more patients left, and then I’m supposed to report back to Ethan and the diagnostics team.

“Yes. I know you’re busy, Dr. Williams, but I really need your help,” Esme pleads.

I sigh. I better make this quick, or Ethan will be mad. “I don’t have much time, but give me the chart.”

Esme hands me the patient’s chart.

“Emily Johnson, 25. Severe abdominal pain, bloating, amenorrhea,” I read aloud. I hand the chart back to Esme and frown. “Dr. Ortega, all these symptoms are indicative of a reproductive issue.”

Esme frowns right back at me. “But she’s already been tested for just about every reproductive disorder there is. And they’ve all come back normal.  _ That’s  _ why I need your help.”

“And you were right to ask for help,” I commend her. “This may be a lot more serious than I thought. Now let’s go!”

*********

When we reach room 317, I scrupulously observe the young woman in the hospital bed. She is noticeably overweight. Her golden skin is strangely drained and pale. Her eyes look sunken in and tired, and she is so weak she barely musters the energy to turn her head to look at me and Esme.

“Hello, Doctors,” she croaks.

“Hello, Ms. Johnson, I’m Dr. Tessa Williams, and I’m going to treat you along with Dr. Ortega,” I reply, giving her a warm smile.

“Cool. I get two doctors. And you’re both so pretty too,” she says. “I’m jealous.”

Huh. Her words are enthusiastic, but her voice is subdued and monotone. I make a note on her chart that she appears lethargic. Esme missed that. I’m going to have to tell her to pay more attention to patients’ states of mind. Being a doctor is much more than just treating symptoms, after all. 

“Why don’t you tell me what the trouble is, Ms. Johnson?” I ask. 

She smiles weakly. “Please, call me Emily. Everyone is so nice here. Who knew the hospital would be such a welcome change?”

What is going on? She’s speaking in tongues. Now I can see why Esme brought me here. I can’t put my finger on what’s wrong with this patient.

“Okay, Emily, I need you to stay focused with me here,” I urge. “Now, what seems to be the trouble?”

“I’m always bloated. Painfully so. It’s been especially bad since my best friend’s birthday party this past weekend. My weight is a chronic issue. My periods have been either irregular or absent for years. And—oh my!” She bolts upright in bed, revealing a large cluster of black hair on the pillow.

“How long has your hair been falling out, Emily?” I ask.

“A couple of months now,” she replies.

“Okay,” I say, jotting this down. “Now, I have to ask because you’ve missed periods. Any chance you could be pregnant?”

She laughs. “Oh, no, not me. My periods have been irregular since I was seventeen. Very puzzling, if you ask me, since I’ve tested negative for every reproductive disorder in the book over the years.”

“Sometimes things get missed,” I say, though I’m not even sure what’s wrong. If this isn’t a reproductive disorder, then what  _ is _ it?

“Besides,” Emily continues, “No guy would get close to me the way I look now.”

I want to tell her that this isn’t true, that she shouldn’t demean herself that way, but she’s a patient, not a friend. So I simply continue asking her the usual obligatory questions, letting Esme chime in when I want her to figure something out. She does so without difficulty. That’s good. I’ll have to let Ines and Zaid know how quick of a learner Esme is.

“Dr. Ortega, I want you to examine Emily’s abdomen,” I say.

“Yes, Dr. Williams,” Esme replies. She lifts up Emily’s gown, revealing her distended abdomen. It is so bloated it almost looks like there is a water balloon inside her body.

“Tell me if anything hurts,” instructs Esme, then begins pressing gently on various areas of Emily’s abdomen. Emily gasps and winces the whole way through. Esme repeatedly apologizes and takes care to be as gentle as possible. I note down that Emily is experiencing abdominal pain and continue assisting Esme with the examination.

When Esme and I finish Emily’s examination, I usher Esme out of the room. She immediately pounces on me with questions.

“What do you think it is? She said it’s not a reproductive disorder. But it sure  _ sounds _ like one. You think she’s faking it?”

I shake my head. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“She said she’s tested negative for various reproductive disorders  _ over the years,”  _ Esme muses. “You think one could have come up just recently?”

“It’s possible,” I say, “but that still doesn’t explain her chronic symptoms.”

Esme frowns. “Right.”

Well, I’m just as stumped as she is. I can think of only one thing to do.

I’m taking this case to Dr. Ramsey,” I tell her. “Someone at diagnostics might be able to crack this case better than we can.”

“Please, not Dr. Ramsey!” Esme exclaims. “He’ll chew me out  _ soooo  _ bad for not being able to figure it out myself.”

I bite back a giggle. A year ago I would have said the same thing about Ethan. But now I know that, behind the gruff exterior, all he wants is for his patients to get the help they need and mentees to be the very best they can be.

“Esme, your first priority needs to be the patient’s care. And he’s not going to be upset with you,” I reassure her. “ _ I  _ couldn’t even figure Emily’s case out. If anything, he’ll be glad that you tried your very hardest and still owned up to the fact that you couldn’t fix this yourself.”

“And what do I do?” Esme asks me.

I weigh my words carefully in my head, not wanting Esme to feel incapable. But I know, as her mentor, I need to be honest with her. “I’m taking over this case. You’re not ready for it.” My mind goes back to long ago, when Ethan said the exact same words to me about Dolores’s case.

Esme’s face falls. “But I want to help her.”

I place a hand on her shoulder. “I know you do, Esme, but you can’t help everyone. You just gotta find a way to help those you can. And I’m very proud of you for trying.”

Esme’s face breaks into a tiny smile at the praise. “Thanks, Dr. Williams. For everything. Now I need to get back to my other patients.”

**********

“Rookie. We were just about to start without you,” Ethan says as I stumble my way into the diagnostics office at four o’clock sharp. He sits at one end of the table, and Baz sits at the other, drawing shapes in the foam of his cappuccino with a stirrer.

“I’m still on time,” I grin, taking a seat beside Ethan.

He flashes me a wide smile right back. “Fine.”

“Also, since when did we decide you’re calling me Rookie again?” I demand. He hasn’t called me that in months. I’ve kind of missed it, though I will  _ never  _ admit it.

“I did, just now,” Ethan replies. “You  _ are _ a rookie to the diagnostics team, after all.”

I sniff, but can’t help but giggle at the joking expression lingering behind the mask of my mentor’s stern blue eyes.

“Fine,” I imitate him, earning a chuckle from Ethan and a belly laugh from Baz.

“So,” Ethan begins. “You want to tell me and Dr. Mirani why you were  _ almost _ late?”

Perfect. “Actually, Dr. Ramsey, I wanted to talk to you about one of my intern’s patients. She has every symptom in the book for a reproductive disorder, yet every time she has been tested for one, the tests all came back negative.” I show him the chart.

Ethan studies the chart for a long moment, his eyebrows drawing together. I can practically see the gears turning in his head as he ruminates every single possible diagnosis in his mind. I sit tight, hoping that Ethan will come up with more of an answer than Esme and I did. All hopes of an instant diagnosis disappear, though, when Ethan finally sets the chart down on the table and shakes his head.

“No idea?” I ask, disappointed.

“Looks like there are a lot more tests to run,” Ethan says. “If it’s not a reproductive problem, we should check for hypothyroidism. It’s possible her thyroid fluctuated over time and she was only tested when it was normal. But an underactive thyroid could be affecting her menstrual cycle.”

“It could be affecting her size, too. She was considerably overweight.”

Ethan nods. “Another possible explanation. Very good, Rookie.”

Baz pats me on the shoulder. “Yes, very impressive.”

“Ugh, when are you two  _ ever _ going to stop giving cute names to each other?” June appears in the doorway with two steaming mugs of coffee. She sets one down in front of me and the other one in front of Ethan.

“Thank you, Dr. Hirata,” I say. I still don’t trust her after she used me to sneak into Mass Kenmore just to mess with Tobias, but I guess it can’t hurt me to be polite.

Ethan glares at her. “I’ll have you know that we do  _ not _ give cute names to each other.  _ Rookie _ is hardly a compliment.”

Underneath the scowl, he winks furtively at me.

“Whatever you say,” teases June. Then she focuses on me. “You’ve gotten yourself quite a lot of attention, Dr. Williams, sneaking into Mass Kenmore like that.”

I plaster a smile onto my face, though an uneasy feeling sinks into my stomach. “Oh, hush. Not like you were the one who suggested the idea to me or anything.”

June grins right back. “Not like I was the one who actually set foot in Mass Kenmore, though.”

Something she said earlier suddenly hits me. “Um, what kind of attention?” 

“I’m sure you’ll find out in due time,” June says dismissively. “But for now, let’s get this diagnostics meeting started.”

*******

“Aurora!” I exclaim. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” 

“You don’t need to apologize for running into me,” Aurora says coolly. She gathers the books I dropped when I plowed into her and hands them in a neat stack to me. “We live in the same apartment; it was bound to happen some time.”

She marches off towards her room, but I grab her arm. “Wait, Aurora!” Our fight has gone on long enough. I tried to apologize for stealing the senator from Mass Kenmore after they stole the coma patient from Edenbrook, but she wouldn’t let me! Now, I’m going to make her stand here and listen until I’m done apologizing. 

Aurora huffs like she doesn’t want to hear what I have to say. “What is it?” she asks.

“I’m sorry I stole Mass Kenmore’s patient.”

Aurora gives me a long, level look. “No, you aren’t.”

I think of Tobias shaking his head as Ethan, Baz, and I sped away after poaching his patient, and acquiesce, “Fine, I’m not. But I  _ am  _ sorry that it’s affected our friendship.”

Aurora says, “I am, too. But you didn’t have to let it.”

I shrink back. “W-what do you mean?”

Aurora takes a deep breath before finally going off on me. “You didn’t have to accuse me of stealing your patient from you. I told Tobias that we should consider encouraging our patients to participate in studies, and he asked me where I got that idea from. I tried to lie, but he saw right through me! I’ve never been a good liar, Tessa. You know I don’t play games with people.”

“Then why would you lie to Dr. Carrick?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. I knew she was up to no good. Maybe apologizing to her was a mistake. Maybe things can never go back to normal between us.

“Because I knew you would react this way!” exclaims Aurora. “I knew you would think I let Tobias in on your idea on purpose, so I tried not to reveal that I got the idea from you. But he threatened to send me back to Edenbrook if I didn’t tell him, so I had no choice.”

My mouth drops open into an O _.  _ I suck in a sharp breath as a wave of unbelievable guilt begins to wash over me. Aurora had been cornered into telling Tobias the truth. I know how desperate Aurora was to get out of Edenbrook, to finally make a name of her own rather than just be recognized as Harper Emery’s niece, or Princess Nepotism as my other friends and I cruelly used to call her. And I had so impulsively accused her of stabbing me in the back just like Landry.

I can’t even bring myself to meet her eyes. I lower my head, deeply ashamed of how immaturely I’d acted, and how poorly I’ve been treating Aurora. To think she tried to cover for me because she was afraid I would react badly!

Aurora looks at me, hurt that must have been brewing inside her for weeks evident on her face. I think I even see a few tears gleaming in her dark eyes. “The least you could have done was hear me out at the softball game.”

She’s right. I  _ do  _ need to apologize to her after all. But not for stealing the patient like I thought. I need to apologize for being a terrible friend and roommate.

“Aurora, I owe you an apology,” I say. “I’m sorry I didn’t hear you out. I’m sorry I assumed you did bad things I should have known you’d never do on purpose. I’m so embarrassed about the way I acted.”

“I would be, too, if I were you,” she replies.

I flinch, but don’t protest. I deserve what she said. I fight my way through the intense shame and force myself to look at her. Much to my surprise, she no longer looks hurt or angry. I guess all she needed was to get the negative emotions I made her feel off her chest.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?” I ask.

Aurora doesn’t answer; she just grabs my arm and leads me to her room. She picks a large brown book up off her desk and hands it to me.

“I made this for you,” she says. “I don’t know if you’ll even want it, but if you do, it’s yours.”

She got me a gift? No,  _ made  _ me one? God, do I feel like a bitch now. 

“Aurora, of course I want it,” I say. “You may not believe me, but for what it’s worth, I’m touched. What is it?”

“I believe you. And it’s a thank you for inviting me to live here. I’m finally free from Aunt Harper’s clutches. I would never have made it this far if it weren’t for you.”

“You definitely would have,” I protest.

Aurora cracks a small smile, something she hasn’t done to me in weeks. “Oh, just open the book already, will you?”

I page through the book, which is a scrapbook of all the memories from this year, before I let my impulsivity get in the way of our friendship. There is a picture of me and Aurora on the couch with one of Sienna’s delicious breakfast spreads in front of us. Another picture shows us and all of our roommates in the middle of a heated, drunken game of pool at Donahue’s. And a third one is of me and Aurora smiling brightly into the camera, in the backseat of a cab on our way to the movies.

Tears flood my eyes at Aurora’s sweet, sentimental gesture. Now I feel like an even worse friend than before. She went to all this trouble for me, and I can’t believe how I repaid her.

“Aurora, this is absolutely beautiful and...I can’t take this. I don’t deserve it.” I hold the scrapbook out to her, but she folds her arms across her chest and shakes her head.

“Nope, you already said you wanted it. You’re not leaving my room until you promise to take that thing with you,” she implores. “And until you promise that things will be normal between us now and you will never do anything like this again.”

I breathe a sigh of relief and give her the widest smile ever. “You got yourself a deal, my friend.”

“Come here,” says Aurora, pulling me into a tight hug. I squeeze her back, hard, as if clinging to our friendship itself. Our friendship that I almost selfishly threw away.

When we pull apart, I say, “I’ve got to start dinner now. Sienna’s on a date with Danny. But bad movie marathon tomorrow night?”

“Absolutely,” says Aurora. I laugh and head to the kitchen, stopping in my room to drop off the scrapbook on the way. I set it upright on my desk, leaving it open at the page of me and Aurora in the cab.

After one last fond glance at the scrapbook, I make my way into the kitchen, where I forage around the cabinets and fridge for the ingredients for spaghetti and meatballs. I roll up fifteen meatballs with passable skill and start the water for the spaghetti. As soon as I put the pot on the stove, however, my phone buzzes with a text from Bryce.

_ Tessa, _ the text reads,  _ I need your help NOW! _


	2. Chapter 2

Trigger Warning: Abuse, mentions of abuse, dialogue around eating disorders. 

“Tessa! Thank God you’re here. This is a disaster!” Keiki cries as she flings open the door to Bryce’s apartment, her cheeks flushed and streaked with mascara-tinted tears. I open my mouth to ask if she’s okay, but before I can speak, she clutches my arm in a death grip and all but drags me into the living room, where Bryce slouches in the middle of the couch, his face buried in his hands. My heart leaps into my throat as my mind begins racing, pondering what could have possibly gone so wrong to reduce Bryce, optimistic, self-assured Bryce, to a pitiful ball of despair in his living room. 

“What’s going on here?” I demand. 

“Our parents called this morning, and they asked me when I was coming back,” says Keiki bitterly. “And then a little while ago, they said they were going to take me back. That’s when Bryce texted you.”

My heart sinks. I know what this means for her. “Oh, Keiki,” I sigh.

Keiki swallows hard, fighting back more tears. “As usual, I’m taking it better than he is.” She nudges Bryce’s leg with her foot. “But I can’t go back. I just can’t!” she insists. 

After a long, agonizing moment, Bryce finally sits up. He very deliberately does not look at Keiki. Instead, he turns to me, his red-rimmed eyes pleading. “I have no choice. They’re her parents, and they have custody of her.”

Keiki stamps her foot. “You do  _ so  _ have a choice!” she sobs. “You’re an adult. So tell them you’re not letting them take me away.”

I look several times between the two Lahela siblings, not wanting to upset either one any more than they already are. But I know that trying to please both of them will only result in me not pleasing either. I once again take in Keiki’s streaming eyes and Bryce’s look of despair, and finally decide what I’m going to say. 

“I’m sorry, Keiki,” I begin, “but Bryce is right. Because you are a minor, your parents have legal custody of you. If they want you back, they have every right to bring you back home with them.”

Keiki’s eyes widen in terror. She goes from sobbing to trembling from head to toe. Her legs shake, and she leans against the wall to steady herself. 

“I can’t go back,” she insists weakly. “Things were just starting to get good here. I like living with Bryce. Once I go back, I’m going to regress so much. No more wearing the clothes I like, only the hideous rags they force me to wear to keep me ‘modest’ so I don’t look like a ‘loose woman’. No more family meals where I don’t throw up from panic attacks when my controlling parents start fighting over everything I did wrong this week halfway through! There  _ has  _ to be a way to let me stay here!”

“Keiki,” says Bryce, “you never told me it was that bad.”

“Well, I was going to at some point,” replies Keiki. “But I was so burned out, so fucking  _ exhausted  _ from living this way, that I needed some time just enjoying a healthy relationship with my brother before even thinking about all the shit that went on back with  _ them. _ ”

Bryce pushes himself up off the couch and wraps his strong arms around his little sister in a protective hug. “I can understand that.”

Keiki continues to sob in her brother’s arms. Bryce is as tender as can be, revealing a soft side that I’ve never seen before, not even when we used to kind of have a thing at the very beginning of intern year. He rubs his sister’s back in slow, gentle circles, and promises her that he’ll always be there for her, that even when she does go back he’ll check in on her every day so she can feel like she’s still with him. Each word of reassurance only makes Keiki cry harder. I suspect she’s unaccustomed to anyone caring about her. My heart bleeds for her. 

“Tessa, are you sure there’s nothing we can do?” asks Bryce. “You’re always finding loopholes to help patients, even when it seems like there’s no other option but to let them go.”

I think back to a patient Esme had earlier this week who began insulting her when she had to keep asking me questions. At first she shook it off with a remarkably thick skin, but when he made a misogynistic remark to her, she told him off  _ good.  _ He was so embarrassed that he asked for a new doctor, not even bothering to insult her once more before we left. Technically, Esme could get in serious trouble for being rude to a patient, even if they instigated. However, because Esme stood up to him, he was so ashamed that he couldn’t face her and she no longer had to deal with him.

“You know, guys, there is one way Keiki can stay here,” I say. 

Keiki bursts out of Bryce’s arms and stares at me. “There is?” she demands. “Oh, please, Tessa, tell me how! I’ll do anything!”

“Bryce can’t tell your parents that he’s keeping you with him. But  _ you _ can tell them you’re staying.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Keiki says. 

“You have to stand up to them,” I explain. You tell them you’re staying right here with Bryce, and you tell them  _ exactly  _ why you don’t want to go back. For a change,  _ you  _ list everything wrong with  _ them.” _

Keiki’s face twists into a scowl. “Believe me, I’ve wanted to many times. But I’ve stopped trying long ago. They don’t take accountability for anything.”

“You’d expect that of criminals,” spits Bryce. 

“You need to try,” I insist. “You’ve been here for a couple of months now, right? They’ve probably already figured out they might lose you. If you keep your distance, then tell them the whole truth about why you don’t want to live with them, maybe they’ll finally realize that their only two options are to either correct their toxic behaviors or lose their daughter for good.”

Keiki nods. She looks relieved that I recognize that she’s the victim in this situation, yet scared at the prospect of standing up to her parents. And I don’t blame her. A couple of white-collar criminals who scammed so many innocent people and even testified against each other must surely be some of the most unscrupulous people on the planet.

“Okay,” she finally agrees. “I’ll do it. But I need some time first.”

“Of course,” says Bryce. He pulls out his phone. “Come on, let’s order some food.”

Keiki shakes her head. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

“Not hungry? Keiki, are you sick or something?”

“The only sickness I have is my parents,” Keiki spits. “I haven’t had any appetite since they first called.”

Bryce looks at her with concern. “That’s not good, Keiki.”

She replies, “Sometimes, all I can stomach for days are liquids. I get so anxious that eating makes me throw up.”

“You’re not going back,” Bryce implores. “I don’t care if they come for you and I have to scream at them to get off my property, I. Will. Do. It.” 

Keiki throws her arms around him. “Thank you, Bryce. I’m so lucky I have you as a brother.”

****

“You’re so pathetic, Emily. Flirting with the male technician like that, and now yapping with your doctors like old friends. Such an attention whore,” Emily Johnson’s stepfather mocks her. He dwarfs Emily’s mom, Jane, a mousy woman with short black hair.

“Clint,” Jane begs. “Stop.” 

Clint snorts. “Emily doesn’t need you to defend her. She has a mouth. If she wants me to stop, she’ll have to use that mouth to tell me so herself instead of using it to stuff food in her gut all the time. She’s too sensitive anyway.”

_ What the hell?! _

“Please, not in front of the doctors!” Emily sobs. I place a hand on her arm, trying to be of as much comfort as I possibly can. Esme manufactures an air of professionalism as she continues the examination, but I can see the angry scowl on her face hardening more and more by the second as Clint proceeds to call Emily a fat pig, self-centered, and hopelessly immature.  _ Takes one to know one, scumbag,  _ I think to myself. I’d take a hundred clones of Nigel the burping PITA over this malicious asshole any day.

“Can you believe that guy?!” Esme demands as we leave Emily’s room and close the door behind us. 

“No, I actually can’t,” I snap. “To think he believes for even one second that he has the right to treat his stepdaughter that way! He’s the only father figure he has left. Her dad died when she was just a little girl.”

Esme gasps. “That’s awful. How did you know that?”

I shrug. “Simple. I made conversation with her when we were following up with her before.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed you do that,” says Esme. “But why? Shouldn’t I be listening to their symptoms?”

I recall being just an intern myself, and getting commended by Ethan for listening to my patient’s life story. Hard to believe that was a whole year ago now. 

“Of course,” I agree. “But being a doctor is more than that, Esme. You need to listen to the patient’s hopes, dreams, background, everything. It may seem pointless, but sometimes those are the clues to their diagnosis.”

Esme nods, and we continue walking down the hall in silence for a bit as she processes everything I just said. She’s a quick learner and a sharp thinker. I know it’ll all come together for her long before she walks in the door of her next patient’s room. 

“Dr. Williams,” she says, “This may not be anything, but now that I think about it, I do remember Emily saying that her bloating got worse after her friend’s birthday party.”

“Uh-huh,” I say. “I remember that, too.”

Esme continues, “She also said that she’d had a big meal at her friend’s party, while most of the time, she goes days eating barely anything.”

I freeze. I don’t remember that. Esme picked up on a vital clue that I had missed back in the examination room. Maybe Emily ate very little most of the time when she was at home, but at a party, when her stepdad wasn’t there to mock her…

A terrible realization begins to dawn on me. I picture Keiki in Bryce’s apartment last night, refusing his offer of ordering takeout because she was too stressed to eat. 

_ The only sickness I have is my parents. _

I whirl around in the direction of room 317. “We’re going back. Emily’s pelvic ultrasound can wait.” 

Esme runs after me. “But why? Isn’t that what she’s here for? Hey, Dr. Williams, wait up!”

I realize that I’ve run so fast that Esme is twenty feet behind me. Suppressing a sigh, I slow down until Esme catches up with me. Once we’re walking side by side again, I explain, “Emily’s stepdad is a real piece of—I mean, he seems abusive towards her,” I amend just in time, noticing the sharp, critical eye of a passing attending who somehow heard our conversation. “He makes fun of her for eating a lot.”

“But she said she regularly goes days barely eating anything,” Esme protests. 

“Exactly,” I say. “The abdominal bloating we thought could be a reproductive issue must in fact be the result of a binge at her friend’s party this past weekend—” 

“And her stepdad wouldn’t have been there to make fun of how much she ate,” finishes Esme.

“Right,” I say. “And if she suddenly had a large meal after days of not eating, of course she would experience abdominal discomfort.”

I can practically see the light bulb over Esme’s head as she finally pieces it all together. “ _ Ohhhh.  _ She doesn’t have a reproductive disorder at all, does she?” Esme says a little sadly.

I shake my head. “We had it all wrong. We were so focused on her weight that we completely overlooked the real problem. But ten minutes in that room with her tyrant of a stepdad told me everything I needed to know.” 

“That makes so much more sense than PCOS,” says Esme. “I feel guilty now.”

“We all have some guilt to share,” I reply. “You, me, everyone at diagnostics. Believe me, I’m furious with myself. We were all falling for some deep-seeded stigma. But now's the time to break it. And that starts with talking to Emily.” 

“This is going to be a difficult conversation, isn’t it?” asks Esme.

“Very,” I admit. “She may not even want to talk. But we have to try. She needs our help.”

When Esme and I return to Emily’s room, I open the door to see Emily chatting with her mom and stepdad like nothing happened. When we enter the room, they flock around her, like she is their property. 

Esme’s eyes flicker from me to them. She whispers to me, “Will you tell them they have to leave, or should I?”

I want Esme to soak up every bit of learning possible, but the patient’s family is difficult. Maybe I should do it. But then again, Esme can handle difficult people. And if she can find vital clues to solving this patient’s case, she’s more than capable of telling the patient’s family they have to leave.

“You can do it,” I encourage Esme. “I’m right here if there’s a problem.”

Esme swallows and makes firm eye contact with Emily’s mom and stepdad. “I’m sorry, but we need to speak to Emily in private.”

“No way!” Clint snaps. “Whatever you need to say, you can say it to all three of us.”

“But I’m an adult!” Emily protests. 

“We’ll treat you like an adult when you start acting like one. This trying to convince us a whiny twenty-five-year-old is an adult is so  _ childish!” _

“Clint, at least stop embarrassing me!” Emily cries, her face red as a tomato. 

“Please, sweetie, we’re worried about you. We’d like to hear,” says Jane. I can tell she’s genuinely concerned, but it’s obvious that more than anything, she just wants control over the situation. I take a step closer to Esme, hoping this reminder of my presence will reassure her. 

Fortunately, it seems to do the trick. “I’m sorry,” Esme repeats, “but because Emily is an adult, it is her right to speak to her doctors privately. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Well then, we want another doctor,” snarls Clint.“As her parents, we have a right to know everything.”

“No, you don’t,” says Esme matter-of-factly. “As far as the hospital is concerned, Emily is an adult and has every right to choose not to share information with you. Any other doctor would ask you to leave as well.”

“And if you don’t comply,” I put in, “I’ll have hospital security ask you to leave. And I’m sure that would be  _ much _ less pleasant.”

Esme nods. “So you might want to listen to me and Dr. Williams. Before we have to make you.”

Clint stews. I can practically see smoke puffing out of his ears. “Your superiors will know all about this, Doctors,” he growls.

“Fine,” says Esme. “Not like they’ll do anything about nosy stepparents claiming they have rights to information that they don’t have.”

Clint huffs and stomps out of the room. Jane follows, sneaking worried glances back at us. 

As soon as they are gone, Emily heaves sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you, Doctors! I don’t think I ever would have gotten rid of them without you. That was awesome! But can’t you get in trouble for that?”

Esme’s face falls. She whispers to me, “Uh-oh. She’s right. We should have been nicer.”

“I’ll take the fall for this,” I hiss back to her. “If Zaid chews you out, you can tell him I’m too hot-headed and it rubbed off on you.”

“Is your supervisor mean?” Emily asks. 

Crap. She overheard everything. 

“He totally has a stick lodged up his ass,” says Esme of Zaid. “But not as bad as your stepdad.”

“Esme!” I scold, but I can’t help but giggle. 

“Speaking of your stepdad,” says Esme, her expression now serious, “does he make fun of you a lot?”

Emily’s eyes flood with tears. “All the time,” she says, like she has been waiting forever to confide in someone. “And when I tell him to stop, he makes me feel like there’s something wrong with me for wanting him to stop. For not being able to handle his jokes.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” replies Esme. “And does he tease you for your weight? What you eat?”

“He outright fat shames me,” admits Emily. “It got so bad that when I was seventeen, I wasn’t able to eat at all, I was so anxious. I lost a lot of weight and got so many compliments, which, over time, led to me just...just…” Emily dissolves into tears, hiding her face in shame. 

Esme hesitantly places a hand on Emily’s back. I know she’s not a touchy-feely person, so I’m glad she’s learning how to be more sympathetic towards her patients. But she is clearly lost, for she turns to me with deer-in-the-headlights eyes as if to say,  _ I don’t know what to do next.  _

I respond with a slight nod to let her know I’ve got it. 

“Emily?” I say. “You’re starving yourself intentionally, aren’t you?”

Emily looks at me with streaming eyes and nods. 

“Oh, Emily. I’m so sorry your own stepfather drove you to such harmful behavior,” I say, reaching my arms out to her. She accepts my hug and sobs into my coat. I don’t normally hug patients, barring the time Rafael had his surgery and we put his hospital bed to good use, to say the least. Heat floods through my entire body as illicit thoughts of Rafael threaten to hijack my brain, but I shove them aside and remind myself to focus on the patient. 

“No one has ever told me it wasn’t my fault before,” cries Emily. “You two are the only ones.”

Now it suddenly makes sense why Emily thought all of us doctors were so nice. We’re the only people that have treated her with any respect for a long time. And it explains why she said no boys would ever want to get close to her. Living with her stepdad has decimated her self-esteem. 

“Well, we know it’s not your fault,” says Esme. “You said your bloating got much worse after a large meal at your friend’s party, but I noticed that you said you go days without eating sometimes. That only exacerbated your discomfort when you finally did eat.”

“Oh, is that how this works?” asks Emily, fascinated with her own disorder despite its gravity.

I chime in, “Anorexia nervosa explains all of the symptoms we thought were due to a reproductive issue. Your amenorrhea, your hair loss, everything. When your body is undernourished, it’s not going to worry about having a menstrual cycle or keeping healthy hair.”

“But I thought only skinny anorexics lost their periods,” Emily says. “In fact, I didn’t even know fat people  _ could  _ be anorexic.” She looks down at her body in disgust. 

“They most certainly can,” I reply. “Anorexia is a pattern of behaviors, not a body size. Eating disorders don’t have a look.”

Emily frowns. “How will I explain this to my parents? Surely they won’t listen.”

“You’ll have to tell them that what they’ve been doing is wrong,” says Esme. 

“And we’ll be right here to help you,” I add. 

Emily quakes in her hospital bed. “I don’t think I can deal with that right now.”

I place a hand on her arm and keep it there until her shaking subsides. “You don’t have to,” I say. “We just wanted to talk to you. Now that we know your diagnosis, we’re going to keep you here to evaluate the extent of the damage your body may have already suffered from the eating disorder. It doesn’t look bad, but we just want to be sure.”

“Okay,” says Emily, though she does look concerned. And I don’t blame her. If I knew my compulsion to starve myself had done irreparable damage to my body, I’d be worried, too.

“There’s just one problem,” Emily adds. “Well, one more problem. Clint is prone to violent outbursts.”

“Maybe we’d better have security here when we talk to your parents, just in case,” I muse. “Or I could even get Dr. Ramsey to come.” I note with a twinge of wistfulness that I can’t ask Rafael to be there as backup in case Emily’s stepdad gets physical. Raf would absolutely  _ destroy  _ that son of a bitch. 

“Try to just focus on getting better, Emily,” says Esme. “We’ll make sure you’re safe.” 

********

An hour later, I’m finishing up my lunch in the cafeteria when Ines approaches me with a big, full lunch tray brimming with colorful food and a bright smile on her face. 

“Want my dessert, Tessa?” she asks, tilting her tray towards me. “I just  _ hate _ M&M cookies. Both cookies and M&Ms are delicious separately, but they have absolutely no business being in the same dessert together.”

I laugh and grab the cookie off her tray. Ines can turn even the most harrowing day on the job into a good one. “Sure, my favorite.”

Ines mock frowns. “Ooh, Tessa, I think we better get your taste buds checked if that’s the case.”

I grin. “I think we better check yours,” I tease. I break off a huge piece of the cookie and pop it into my mouth. “Mmm,  _ so  _ good,” I all but moan. I stuff the rest into my mouth in two bites and smile at Ines with my full cheeks protruding like a chipmunk’s. We both burst into giggles. 

“Oh, I think I see Zaid over there!” says Ines, pointing at the cafeteria’s entrance. Zaid saunters in, starts scrutinizing today’s menu, and shakes his head as he reads all the options.

“He’ll never decide what to have for lunch at  _ this  _ rate,” I say. 

“Well, I’ll go help him!” Ines turns around and heads towards Zaid. “Oh, and you have a visitor at the front desk. Don’t keep him waiting!” she sings over her shoulder with a wink. 

A visitor? Now who could  _ that  _ be? I down the rest of my coffee and leave the cafeteria. 

When I reach the front desk, Rafael is waiting there, a bouquet of red roses in his hand.  _ Of course.  _ I really hope this was all Rafael’s doing and Ines didn’t just set me up. I haven’t told her much about us, but the day I found out he and Sora got back together right before my shift, I had no choice. Ines had seen my expression and had known right away that it was about Rafael. She knew what he did. She wouldn’t set me up!

“Raf?” I ask. “What are you doing here? And what’s with the flowers?”

Rafael looks down at his feet, self-conscious for some reason. “They’re for you, Tessa,” he says. “Come, let’s talk.”

My eyes scan the room around us. Lots of patients, amused elderly people and interested teenagers alike, strain their ears to hear what drama could possibly be going on between us former lovers in the middle of the hospital. A nearby female attending I vaguely remember from my ethics hearing shakes her head at us, yet sneaks furtive glances out of the corner of her eye. 

“Let’s go,” I say. Rafael and I hustle away from the curious onlookers and into an empty hospital room. 

“What is all this?” I hiss as soon as he closes the door behind us. “You can’t just show up to talk to me whenever. I have a job, you know.”

Rafael kicks the ground. “Sure, remind me I got suspended,” he snaps. “I’m doing this for you, you know that, right?” 

“Doing what for me?” I demand. “You don’t owe me anything. Just pretend none of this ever happened. That we never…”

Rafael recoils. He almost drops the flowers. “Do you really want to forget about us? Because I kind of want to relive it all again.”

_ Relive it all again?  _ Where the hell was this coming from? One minute he tells me he’s leaving town but won’t explain why, and the next, he’s saying he wants to get back together? Well, it won’t happen. But my God, I do want it to happen. 

I know I can’t let it, though. For the sake of my own well-being, I refuse to entertain Rafael just because he couldn’t have the girl he wanted.

So I shake my head. “It’s too soon, Raf. You just broke up with Sora. I won’t allow myself to be used like that.”

“You think this is a rebound?” demands Rafael. “Tessa, I thought you knew me better than this. If you had any idea how bad I—”

“Don’t give me that. You’re not going to make me feel guilty for accusing you of something I should supposedly know you wouldn’t do. I wanted the chance to get to know you, and you took that away from me. So, now I don’t want it.”

I do want it, though. I want it so bad it physically hurts. All the memories of us come flooding back. The street food, our first kiss, dancing together, all of it. I want to relive absolutely all of those memories, and then I want to make more and more until my brain literally can’t take any more memories. 

“Please, Tessa,” says Rafael. His voice is gentle, not demanding a favor, but I still think he’s the most selfish guy on the planet. The most selfish guy that I am still completely in love with. “No one else knows about my plans to leave town.”

“Why don’t they know?” I demand. “Are you hiding things from everyone else, too?”

Rafael blushes. “They’d, uh, ask questions. Personal questions.”

He’s lying for sure. I narrow my eyes and say, “Raf, I don’t see Jackie or Aurora ever asking personal questions. Elijah and Sienna, maybe, but they’d back right down if you didn’t want to talk. What’s really going on?”

“I just...I needed to talk to you today. Is that too much to ask?” Rafael’s dark brown eyes gleam with tears. He looks like a kicked puppy. My breath hitches in my throat, and for one second, I almost cave. 

Then it dawns on me. He doesn’t want me at all, not even as a rebound. He just needs someone to vent to before abandoning us. And I’m the only one who knows he’s leaving town. He’s just feeling nostalgic because he’s sad to be leaving. If he’s making such a drastic change to his life, there’s no way in hell I could possibly be a part of his plans.

And what’s more, he’s not going to give me the answers I deserve. So I’m not going to give him my time. 

“If all you wanted from me was emotional support, you didn’t need to ask me with an overpriced bouquet of roses,” I snap. “You could have saved both your money and my hope.”

“That’s not why I got you—” Rafael starts, but I whirl on my heel and march away. 

I don’t care how in love I still am with him. I have to protect my heart.

  
  


  
  



End file.
